


Tell No Tales

by riosnecktattoo



Category: Good Girls (TV)
Genre: Beth is a beautiful stranger (Read: Siren), Don't look to deeply in to the nautical shit I say it's not grounded in logic lol, F/M, I dunno. She's weird and he digs it., It's silly., Literally only exists cause I think Rio looks like a Fisherman in his Beanies, Rio is a Fisherman, She's not super obvs a Siren tho?, The Fisherman AU that nobody (a few people) asked for!
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-16
Updated: 2020-04-16
Packaged: 2021-03-02 02:20:30
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,480
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23687554
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/riosnecktattoo/pseuds/riosnecktattoo
Summary: Rio is a weary Fisherman. Beth is a beautiful stranger. Nautical shenanigans ensue.
Relationships: Beth Boland/Rio
Comments: 40
Kudos: 127





	Tell No Tales

**Author's Note:**

> This is so silly but I had so much fun writing it!
> 
> Shoutout to the lovely [Medievalraven](https://medievalraven.tumblr.com/) & [Sothischickshe](https://sothischickshe.tumblr.com/) who were the OG Fisherman AU supporters. And to [Bathroombreaks](https://bathroombreaks.tumblr.com/) who gave me the final push to just friggin do it!
> 
> (Rio is wearing his 2x11 Beanie. That's important. ᴵᵗ'ˢ ⁿᵒᵗ ʳᵉᵃˡˡʸ )
> 
> Links to Sea Shanty's mentioned cause they bang:  
> [Leave Her Johnny!](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=gEWS5dGSDOc)  
> [Randy Dandy-O](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=QapvJeWiHwo)  
> [Lowlands Away](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=vGThECQmSpI)

The pebbles crunch and shift under his boots. Still wet from this morning’s rain. Rio slides a little, unsteady on the slick stones and less certain on his feet after a few beers. The tavern door swings to a shut behind him. The heavy wood bouncing and the deep orange light of the fire glowing from the hearth in the corner bursts through the dirty oval glass at the door’s centre.

He can still make out Mick’s booming laugh from out here, and it’s followed by someone deciding to bring the old piano to life. A messy shanty starts playing, and the regulars start singing. Applause and cheers are scattered among the lyrics and Rio can’t help but turn to look through the glass. It sounds like a raucous, faster version of ‘ _Leave Her Johnny_!’ and he smiles. He always liked that one.

Mick does too. He’s hauled himself very ungracefully onto the big oak table, the one surrounded by the rest of the crew and a few girls from town, and he’s proudly bellowing the verses. His brown suspenders hang loose around his waist while he swings his hat around in his left hand, sloshing his drink with the other and stomping his feet. Rio isn’t sure how long the table legs will hold up.

He feels the urge to re-join the fun, the steady stomping and wild delight on everyone’s faces so enticing. He should at the very least pull rank and remind them how early they have to cast off in the morning. That he’s not going to have empathy for hangovers or anything less than their best work once they’re back on the ship. But he’s tired and they deserve a good night after the past few weeks. No. Rio’s done for the night. And he’s running out of ways to let the barmaid know he’s not interested. It was when she’d reached out with both hands and harshly grabbed the scruff on his face that he’d decided he’d had enough and chose to leave.

 _God, I could do with a shave_ , he thinks. Running his own hand over the beard he’d let grow out.

He turns to the sea. The Old Anchor tavern was one they often came to when they were in town, mostly because it was right on the beachfront. They practically stumbled off the boat and through the door. He liked it. It was familiar. But he’s already restless. Itching to get back out there.

Rio reaches up and pulls the edges of his knitted beanie further down to cover his ears, before tucking his hands in to the pockets of his thick navy jumper. It’s a calm night. The waves gently breaking on the shore. He can see the boat tied up further down the pier. Bobbing gently against the dock. The chains and baskets making soft noise in the dark. Turning to face further down the beach, he takes in the way it bends into a cove. The spit of land stretching out into the shallows with the crumbling Lighthouse built in to the jagged rock at its end. It’s giant mirrored light turning slowly, an obsolete but comforting beacon for men like him. Telling something in his blood that maps and screens just can’t: _You made it_.

Rio can hear the singing change behind him. He peeks back to see Dags dragging Mick off the table so he falls in to his side, drinks spilling everywhere and gruff laughter being shared. He loops his arm around Mick’s shoulders and their bellowing voices start in on ‘ _Randy Dandy-O_ ’. It would almost be good if they picked a key to sing it in. _I’ll get those two on the double-rig tomorrow,_ he thinks. The image of them blearily trying to get the boat ready for trawling already amusing to him.

As he turns back to the Lighthouse, Rio’s eyes catch a blur of something dark blue among the rocks at its base. He rubs his eyes and blinks to clear his vision. But she’s still there. A woman, he’s sure of it. Her pale skin glowing in the moonlight. Standing perfectly still and gaze directed his way.

There’s nobody else around. The only sounds are distant singing and the constant ebb and flow of the ocean. After a moment of staring, he starts walking in her direction. A pull he can’t explain urging him forward until he reaches the spit of land she’s standing out on. It’s uneven, mostly large, slippery rocks. _How did she get out here?_ He wouldn’t normally try it, but now he’s closer he can see the woman more clearly.

 _Shit_ she’s beautiful. That’s the first coherent thought that enters his head anyway. Standing in a gossamer blue dress that falls with frayed edges down to her calf, too thin and flimsy for this kind of weather or place. A messy crown of golden hair falling to her pale shoulders. Slightly damp and sticking to her forehead. She stands motionless, eyes focused on his approach. He can make out an old, leather satchel. The strap slung over her shoulder, worn with use and sitting by her hip. The lighthouse whirs around them, and throws her fully in to view for just a moment. He can see something shine around her neck. White pearls, he thinks, glistening against her collarbone. His eyes meet hers again and he can see the slightest hint of a smile playing there as she watches him watch her. His jaw rocks before he breaks the silence.

“Are you – are you ok, sweetheart?” he calls out. Breath catching as he watches the thin fabric of the dress cling to her body. _She must be freezing_. No response.

“Why don’t you come over here to me and we’ll get you inside, yeah?” He reaches out to her, beckoning her toward him. Still nothing.

He realises suddenly that she could be scared of him. A strange man offering to take her somewhere in the middle of the night. “It’s ok look – I’m not gonna hurt you, yeah? But we gotta get you out of the cold, darlin. Come on, come over.” He brightens and tries for a kind smile, “I’m a good guy, promise.”

Suddenly she’s laughing. High and sweet and so her entire face lights up. “Well, that’s a shame. I was hoping you’d be more interesting than that.” she replies, keeping her eyes on him as she turns away and starts walking further up toward the base of the Lighthouse. Effortlessly skipping over the rocks.

 _What am I doing?_ Rio thinks. If she’s so determined to go off and break her neck out there – let her. _I’m not following. I’m not._

“Fuck it.”

Rio keeps an eye on the path she’s taken through the rock as he starts ambling over the wet stones, using his hands to steady himself, keeping himself low and his footing as sure as he can get it. The constant spray of the sea making his trail more dangerous with every moment. It’s when he’s over half way he looks up to see her sitting against the wall of the Lighthouse, watching him struggle with a wide smile, and that just frustrates him more. Her finding this funny.

He makes one final jump to avoid some particularly sharp granite rock that has built up by the wall and comes to stand right in front of the woman. They are far enough out that the sea around them is breaking against the bluffs with force, a bass thudding sound that he normally hears against the hull of his ship on rocky nights. It mingles with his heavy breathing as he takes her in up close. As her deep blue eyes pin him to the spot and that strange warped feeling of being pulled towards her hits him again, like a dull magnet tickling his skin.

“Listen, I’m gonna need you to tell me what the hell you’re doing, cause I can’t make sense of why you’d wanna play hide and seek in the middle of the night. Out here. Dressed like that.” He gestures to the barely there material, eyes dropping down to take her in. Sucking his lower lip in to his mouth in spite of himself.

She’s giggling again, “ _You’re_ the one following me. I didn’t force you to. Why did _you_ come?”

“It’s dangerous.” He says bluntly.

“And yet here you are.”

Her voice is soft and breathy. Almost dreamlike. Giving him goose bumps down the back of his neck that have nothing to do with the chill in the air.

He shakes it off. “Will you stop playing? Come on, let’s head back to the beach, okay? I can’t leave you out here.”

“Then don’t leave me.”

“What are you talking about?”

She stands suddenly, agile and assured, and comes right up close, inches from his chest. She has to crane her neck like this, and he’s suddenly aware of how much shorter than him she is. It’s then he registers her lack of shoes. Her bare feet, wet and pale against the dirt. His mouth twitches, amused as his eyes drag back up, stopping at her mouth unwillingly, before pulling back to meet her warm gaze.

“Stay.”

“Why?”

“Maybe I’m lonely.” And it’s said like she’s still playing, but Rio can hear the truth beneath the lilting voice.

He scoffs, “You can’t be lonely inside? Where it’s warm? With a few more clothes on?”

She’s smiling again. “I like it here.” She says, before pulling away to sit on the low rocks by the Lighthouse wall.

“Right, right.” He drawls. Following her actions. Trying to unpick her. Untangle the knot before him. Do what he’s good at.

She lightly strokes the rock beside her. “Will you sit with me, Rio?”

And _– what?_

He double-takes, “How’d you know my name?”

“I know lots of things.”

“Elaborate.”

She sighs, “I heard it. Around town. People talk. Everyone knows everybody that comes through here. And not many of them have giant neck tattoos.”

He absent-mindedly strokes at his throat, tracing the wingspan of the bird down from below his ear. He can see her eyes following the movement with interest before he drops his hand again. He considers her words and he doesn’t buy it. Not for a second. But he finds himself wanting to stay. Wanting to be near her. Hear her speak. Touch her. And maybe – if Rio was honest – he was lonely too.

Slowly, he moves to sit in front of her. As he leans back in to the wall he shoves his hands back in to his jumper pockets. Because his hands are cold, not so he doesn’t do something stupid like reach out and move the string of hair that’s hanging in front of her eyes.

“Well, you know my name. Am I allowed to know yours or is there another rocky obstacle course I gotta go through first, huh?”

“Elizabeth.”

“Well, Elizabeth, you ain’t boring. I’ll give you that.”

Her look is full of a knowing he doesn’t understand and he gets lost in it for a moment. Distantly the peace of the night is interrupted with the door of The Old Anchor swinging open, a mass of drunk patrons spilling out, clutching at each other. He turns and can just about make out the handsy barmaid squashed under Mick’s arm. They start walking as a group up past the shuttered shops. Clearly having moved on to more sombre songs, Mick’s voice is still powerful as Rio can make out the echoed words “ _I dreamed my love came in my sleep, Lowlands, Lowlands away me John!”_ being bellowed across the shore.

Rio’s glad he avoided this part of the evening. He didn’t like this tune so much. _Fuckin depressing_.

“Friends of yours?” Elizabeth pulls back his attention as he whips his head round to her.

“What? You don’t know all _their_ names? Thought you was big in to keeping tabs on everybody in town.”

“Not everybody in town is worth my time.”

He scoffs but it affects him, the interest in her eyes. _Ok_. He thinks. _Let’s play_.

“Oh yeah?” He turns fully towards her. His attention solely on her face and what’s happening there, the small intake of breath, her fluttering eyes, the dusting of pink at her cheeks, “Then tell me, sweetheart, how’s someone that looks like you – “ his jaw goes slack as his eyes trace down her collarbone and sit there, watching her stroke the pearls around her neck. He swallows, “ – how can she be possibly lonely?”

“I don’t have good taste in friends.” She stutters.

“Hmmmm.” He hums, considering her, voice husky as he says “I can be real friendly.”

She locks her jaw and Rio can see the muscles working beneath the surface. Her deep breath causing her chest to strain slightly against the frilled edges of her dress in a way that has his fists squeezing tighter inside his pocket. Nails digging in to the palm.

“I’m sure you can.” She smiles back finally. It’s annoyingly charming, easing the tension that had been building. He rolls his shoulder, returning a toothy smile and changing course.

“So Elizabeth, how come I’ve never seen you round here before then, huh?”

She considers her response for a moment, looking out to the black sea with the ghost of a troubled expression, before clearing her throat, “You know every girl in town?”

“Nah,” he laughs warmly, “but I’d remember you.”

The corners of Elizabeth’s lips turn up and those wide-eyes look almost black against her translucent skin as she looks up at him through her eyelashes. A shiver rocks through him while she sits unaffected. “Ain’t you cold?”

“I’m fine.”

“You’re something, alright. I haven’t decided what yet.”

She ignores him and pivots the conversation, “Where are you from, Rio?”

It’s a simple question for most. But it irks him a little, shifting in his seat. He doesn’t have a simple answer so he goes with the one that makes the most sense to him.

Lifting a hand from his pocket, he gestures toward the large trawler he came in on with worn black script on its side spelling out ‘The Legacy’.

“No, I mean………where’s home?”

“That is home.” He bites back a little too bluntly. “Don’t have anywhere else as solid in my life as that boat. I never have. So it’s home.”

“That makes sense.”

“Really? Most people think it’s pretty sad.”

“I’m not most people.”

And _shit_ , that’s stating the obvious.

Elizabeth shifts suddenly, her spine becoming longer as she sits up straight, her elegant shoulders pushed back. “Do you want to play a game?”

Rio sits up to in an attempt to mirror her change in energy and _hell_ , why not? He’s good at games. Spends most of his day making his boys feel dumb, besting them in whatever stupid shit they come up with to pass the quiet time. “Sure. What you got in mind?”

“Two truths and a lie.”

He smirks and juts his lower lip out, but eventually bobs his head in agreement.

“Okay, darling. After you.” He gestures for her to go first and her face glows in thought. Eyes searching up and around, glancing up at the inky sky.

“One, I was married a long time ago. Two, I have a fear of drowning. Three, -” she pauses, weighing up her final statement. “ – I was jealous of the barmaid.”

Rio’s brows knit together, trying to straighten out what she just said. What he thinks could be the lie, what he wants to be the truth.

“The barmaid? From the Anchor?” She says nothing, immoveable. “Were you watching me in there?”

Elizabeth shows no sign of being embarrassed. It’s more like she _wanted_ him to know she’d been watching. But what would she have seen? Him being irritated? Repeatedly brushing her off? Avoiding conversation because all she ever asked him was _Have you seen sharks?_ and _Do you feel like a Pirate_? Her grabbing his face –

“That’s nothing. I don’t know her at all. Pretty sure she went home with my First Mate.”

“She was stroking your face.”

_Well number three was definitely a truth._

“She _grabbed_ my face and then I left. You don’t gotta be jealous.”

Elizabeth slowly lifts her palm up toward Rio’s face, making her intention clear. He eyes her delicate fingers and leans ever so slightly toward her hand. _Go ahead_.

Her fingers gently stroke the soft stubble along his jawline. Her thumb caressing his cheek so gently Rio’s eyes flutter a moment. And somehow, even with her clothes and the night, her hand is warm. When he can focus again he sees her eyes zeroed in on the stubble around his mouth and the way her own mouth opens softly.

“It looks like it would tickle.” She says, and this wasn’t what he was expecting at all. He laughs as his eyebrows shoot up suggestively, “You wanna find out?”

Her hand drops back to her lap, “Keep playing.”

Rio thinks back on her statements. “Well three is a truth, I know that much.”

“Correct.”

“As for one, I mean, you don’t seem the marrying type.”

“What makes you say that?”

“Literally everything I’ve seen from you so far tonight.”

Elizabeth nods, chewing on a smile but is reluctant to give any more tells. “You’re restless. I can’t see you wanting to be tied down.”

“I said I _was_ married. Maybe I got rid of the tier-downer. Pay attention.”

And okay. Rio puts his hands palm-up toward her in a _fair enough_ gesture.

“Then I’m gonna take a shot and say the drowning thing is the lie. Especially since you ran all the way out here not caring about going in if you fell.”

Elizabeth grins all teeth. “Very good. Quite the opposite, really. I’ve seen drowning men many times. And it _certainly_ doesn’t scare me.”

“What are you talking about?” he’s lost now. A dark look passes over Elizabeth’s face, gone as quickly as it had arrived. “Nothing. Your turn.”

Rio decides to drop it. “Okay so, one, I have four older sisters. Two, - ” he watches her and decides if he wants to share this, “ - I have a son.” No reaction, just genuine curiosity written all over her. “And three, I don’t eat fish.”

That really sets her off, her sweet laugh filling the air as she throws her head back. “That cannot be true!?”

“What do you want from me? I like catchin em, not cookin em.”

“Well then the first is a lie. You have sisters, but you don’t have four of them.”

“What? How did you? – What makes you think that?” he stumbles. She’s right, but why wouldn’t she think he was lying about having a son? She didn’t even question it.

“Because I know you have a son.”

He stops. Tuned in to the sea gently washing a few metres from their feet, taking comfort from it as his heart beats a little faster. “What are you talking about? How could you possibly know that?”

“I told you. _I know lots of things_.”

“And I told you ‘ _elaborate_ ’.”

“Maybe I like you.”

Rio’s whole face is scrunched up in confusion. Who is this woman?

“You don’t know me.” Is all he can think to say. Because she doesn’t? Not really?

“Oh, I think I do.”

Elizabeth shifts in her seat, bringing the old satchel at her side up in to her lap. Rio watches as she fiddles with the toggle, pulling it free from the leather loop securing it. Pulling back the fold over flap, Elizabeth dips her hand in to the bag, pulling out a small black journal. Wet and worn from time and use. Rio’s face drops. _That’s mine._

He fumbles. “What – Where did you get that?”

“I found it. Last time you were in town.”

“You _found_ it?”

“Uh huh.”

“I kept that in my cabin. On my ship. Nobody knew where that was.”

“Like I said. I _found_ it.” Elizabeth holds the journal in both hands, face still showing no signs of shame. She looks _sad,_ he thinks _._

“You _stole_ from me.” And she doesn’t care. He can see it. Does he care? Sure he’d wondered about it. Got frustrated at himself for losing it. But it wasn’t like she’d gone down in to the brig and seen –

She’s gently flipping through pages now, looking for something she’d seen before. The pages fall open and he can see it. The old picture of his son clipped to the top of the page. _Marcus, Age 5 ½, Daddy’s Boat_ written in his little boys scrawl beneath it. Nearly two years ago.

“This is why I knew you had a son.” She looks at him like she understands how he misses him. Like the few words he’d jotted down about him had given her an intimate window in to his life.

“Why did you take it?”

She sighs, weary seemingly not with him, but with herself. “I was bored. And I wanted to know you. Wanted to speak to you for so long but didn’t know how without using - ” She cuts herself off and shrugs, struggling for the right words.

“I can’t explain it. But I think I thought that as long as I had something of yours, you’d have to come back for it. And I would see you again.”

She’s the strangest woman he’s ever met in his life. Why does he like her _more_ now? Knowing she stole from him? Stalked him?

“You could have just spoken to me. I promise I woulda had time for you.”

“I couldn’t.”

He exhales loudly and gestures around, grasping for clarity. “Why not?!”

“You wouldn’t understand.”

“No, apparently not.”

“I’m not the only one with secrets.” She turns the pages of the journal purposefully now, searching for a specific entry. “This for example.” She holds the pages flat as she looks over the words in front of her. Rio can make out the lists and tables he’d written out himself. Things he kept off the official books. Can see _exactly_ what secrets she’s referring to.

“You carry some pretty interesting cargo for a fisherman.” She stares him down, waiting for his next move.

 _Well, fuck._ Rio had long been using the boat for more than just fishing. A mountain of illegal pills currently acting as ballast down in the hold. And she knew about them.

“What are you gonna do with that, Elizabeth?”

She sighs like she’s disappointed. Like he doesn’t get it. Then she’s closing the journal and holding it out to him. Rio reaches out and grabs the edge of it, but Elizabeth doesn’t let go of it straight away. Connected by the stolen item between them.

She smiles warmly and all the tension releases from him.

“Smuggler.” She names him, dryly.

“Thief.” He replies.

She releases the journal to him and he takes it in to his lap. She’s stroking the line of pearls at her throat again. Can hear the way they roll and clink against each other and her skin. He takes her in anew. This beautiful, strange woman who led him out here. Who had stolen from him. Who wanted to know him. And it’s been so long since he’d been known.

“You know, I can’t remember the last time I spoke to someone about anything other than the job in a long time. Can’t remember wanting to.”

“I’m glad you came back to town, Rio.” she offers, dreamily. That strange pull vibrating around them again. Like a haze she can turn on and off.

And he’s wanted to ask it since he saw her standing out in the rocks like a mirage. Wants her to explain what’s been happening between them. Why he wanted to follow her. Why she wanted to be followed.

“What are you, Elizabeth?”

And there it is again. The shadow. Words stuck in her throat. Something sparkling in her huge blue eyes. This whole night was feeling like a dream. Is she even real? Had he made her up? Does it matter if it _felt_ real? If he could keep her? Maybe they could both stop being lonely.

The wind whips fast and sharp past them, breaking the moment. Her damp hair clinging to her cheek. He stops fighting the urge and reaches out toward her temple. Pushing her hair back across her forehead, dragging his index finger down to tuck it behind her ear. Watching the way she swallows as he does so, her eyes jumping around his face.

It doesn’t help though. Another gust of wind undoing his work and tangling her hair around her cheek again. She giggles and it’s the sweetest thing he’s seen in – in he doesn’t know how long. He makes the decision for her, whether she’s cold or not, whether he understands that or not, he reaches up and tugs his beanie off his head. Giving it a quick dust off and shaking it out, he grips the knitted hat and holds it out, lifting it up and over her head. He tugs the ribbed edges down to just over her ears and leans back to take in the look. The dark navy of the hat making her skin glow even more, picking out the blue of her eyes.

“There,” he says, pleased. “We’ll make a fisherman out of you yet.”

There’s a riot of gulls above them. The sound of iron hulls aching against each other in the port. The streets are quiet. Rio is suddenly exhausted all over, and the cold has started to seep in to his bones. The weight of his responsibilities coming back to him.

“I have to – I have to get back to the ship.” He stands and reaches a hand out to Elizabeth. “Will you come with me?”

She takes it gladly and rises to stand in front of him. She’s so close. The pearls glinting. He can almost taste the salt on her skin. Then she curves around him, brushing against his chest and tugging on his hand as they start the dangerous walk back through the rocks. Rio careful to follow her sure footsteps, until they come out on to the beach, turn up to the pier and head for ‘The Legacy’.

“Do you think you’ll leave one?” she asks.

“What?”

“A legacy.”

Rio stops as he’s reaching out to the ladder built in the side of the boat. He thinks about Marcus. He thinks about the dreams he has. About the white gold in the brig. About how good he is at what he does. “Yeah.” He replies, confidently. “Yeah, I do.”

“Is it hard? Is it worth it?”

He looks at her, holding her gaze seriously as he says “Smooth seas do not make good Sailors.” before reaching out to take her hand.

He helps her up first, making sure she makes it up on deck safely, before following after. He finds her taking it all in. The nets. The double-rig. The big hole in the deck from the last time Mick got drunk.

He comes up beside her. “Is it how you remember?”

Turning to him, a mischievous smile on her lips, she lifts her hands to his chest and tugs on his jumper. Pressing the knit fabric between her fingers. “It’s nicer with company.”

Rio loops his arms around her waist, gripping at the small of her back, pulling her flush against him. He sucks his lower lip in to his mouth as he considers her, his eyes going heavy as he mutters, “You know, I wouldn’t hate having a stowaway.”

She hums content. But he can see it, the urge to stay, the need to go. The _something_ about her that he can’t figure out that will keep her from him. And the darkness that simmers just beneath it all. 

“I’m sure you wouldn’t. But I – ”

“Elizabeth,” he stops her. “You don’t need to elaborate.”

Then she’s smiling again and he can’t take it. The way he wants to kiss her so badly coursing through him. His whole face going slack as he searches her eyes. Her nose gently brushes his, she’s so close. He can feel the hands knotted in to the fabric at his chest begin to flatten and glide further up, towards his shoulders, sending little sparks of electricity through him. Her mouth opens and they share heavy breaths, her eyes focused on his lower lip.

Then she’s surging up on to her tip-toes, taking that lip in to her mouth gently, Rio leaning down to help her. It’s soft and slow and as she pulls back she sighs against him. He doesn’t realise he’s following her mouth until he’s crashing back in to her, deepening the kiss. A soft groan coming from the back of his throat as she drags her hand up to scrape against his scalp. Tasting her on his tongue. Feeling suddenly dizzy with it. His brow furrowed with the need to get closer to her. The press of her body against his driving him crazy. The way she bites gently at his puckered lip. The little noises she’s making when she can’t catch her breath.

Then the dizziness becomes more overwhelming. Something passing between them. Something _she’s_ doing to him somehow. A silent curse. Something to do with the darkness she’s hiding underneath. He stops the kiss and leans his forehead against hers. Suddenly unable to see her clearly. A dusty haze falling over his vision. His body turning numb.

He manages to whisper “Elizabeth – ” before all he feels is the hard deck beneath him. Before everything fades to black.

* * * * * * * *

It’s dawn when Rio feels the thick toe of a boot thwack him in the side. Bleary, he recoils from the pain it gives him in his ribs and the sudden early sunlight making his eyes sting.

“Boss. Wake up, Boss.” Another hard kick in the side and Rio bolts up.

“Shit, alright. Will you stop?”

“Big night?” Mick stands over him, looking pretty fresh for someone who drank everything in The Old Anchor’s storeroom. He can smell it on him though. Beer seeping out from his pores.

“Um, yeah. Kinda.” _Where was she?_ Where had she gone? Had he dreamt it? Had he finally lost it?

“Same here.” Mick laughs hoarse and deep. “Very grateful you brushed off the barmaid, by the way. Believe me.” He winks conspiratorially, before slapping Rio on the shoulder so hard he nearly falls back.

“No problem.”

Rio begins to stand, finding his feet. He watches the rest of the crew filter in and go about their chores. Dags tries to creep past him, but he catches him by the arm. The groan he makes letting him know he hasn’t recovered quiet as well as Mick.

“You two,” pointing from Dags to Mick, “I want you on the double-rig this morning. And make sure it’s set up right this time, yeah? No more accidents.”

The two men groan but grumble _yes, boss_ when Rio levels them with a look.

It’s then he sees it. Something shiny in the corner of his eye, slipped in to the pocket of his jumper. He reaches in and slowly pulls out the long string of pearls. Elizabeth’s pearls.

He weighs them in his hand a moment. Thinks about what this means. Why had she left them with him? And then he hears it, the echo of her voice from last night.

_I thought that as long as I had something of yours, you’d have to come back for it. And I would see you again._

He thinks of her somewhere, still wearing his beanie. Of the pearls she made sure he took with him. An exchange. A promise.

Behind him, he can hear Mick singing again. Leading a few of the boys through a song to make the work go faster. It’s the one from last night. The one Rio likes.

_Leave her, Johnny leave her! Oh, leave her, Johnny leave her!_

Rio can feel the way the boat buoys beneath him. The way the wind skitters over the surf and lightly dusts him with water. The bitter chill at his neck. The white noise of his men singing while they work. The smell of salt and old rope that sticks to him. Things he knows.

_For the voyage is long and the winds don’t blow and it’s time for us to leave her._

But he can also feel the smoothness of the pearls in his hand. The tiny, shimmering spheres gently clicking as he runs his thumb down the string. Can almost picture how they would sit on her collarbone. How she had gently traced them for comfort. Something treasured to her.

And with a bone-deep understanding, he looks out to the shore and smiles.

_I’ll be seeing you._

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading! This was silly fun! The shanty's are so good if you have a listen to them. Picturing a drunk Mick singing them gave me so much joy. 
> 
> Anywho big love to everyone :)


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